


Tea and Biscuits

by springbok7



Series: An Assortment of Teas and Biscuits [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: #MinervaSafe, Alec and Q are mad-genius lab partners, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And Tooth-Rotting Sweetness, Asexual Alec, Asexual Character, Fudge and biscuits too, Multi, No apologies for all the cavities, Olivia Mansfield died but not at Skyfall, Q is a Holmes but if you blink you'll miss it, Skyfall did not die at Skyfall either, The author misplaced the plot, established poly relationship, so much unadulterated fluff, so sorry not sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 10:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9231482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springbok7/pseuds/springbok7
Summary: When Q, Bond, and Trevelyan overextend themselves to the breaking point, their colleagues and friends cook up some psychology and kick them out of MI6 for a bit. Plus presents. And Skyfall as a second home. And an aga. And lots of cuddle-time and duvets. And apparently I have a thing for showers. Just 'cause!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Only_1_Truth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Only_1_Truth/gifts), [00QEros (Dassandre)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dassandre/gifts), [MinMu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinMu/gifts).



> This fic is dedicated to three lovely ladies ([Only_1_Truth](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Only_1_Truth/pseuds/Only_1_Truth), [Dassandre](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Dassandre/pseuds/00QEros), and [MinMu](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MinMu/pseuds/MinMu)) who have been extremely supportive of me over the last few months and years and for whom I am tremendously grateful. Go read their stuff, it's all amazing!
> 
> The initial bunny for this fic is entirely [Only_1_Truth](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Only_1_Truth/pseuds/Only_1_Truth)'s fault. She sent me cookies and fudge! And TEA! Look what happened! I was supposed to be beta-ing three fics over New Year's and LOOK WHAT HAPPENED!!! Sugar and caffeine and fireworks are terrible things. Enough of each and sleep evades; combine the three and shenanigans ensue instead. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> And last but certainly not least, thank you to my sister-from-another-parental-unit [Dassandre](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Dassandre/pseuds/00QEros) for being willing to beta this for me, especially considering I owe her a beta-ing or two myself! Hope your back feels better and the kiddies are behaving, and the arctic chills are warming up, my friend!
> 
> All remaining typos and oddities are mine. If you spot any errors and/or feel there should be additional tags, please do let me know. I welcome constructive criticism, but neither support or feed trolls.
> 
> _Sadly I do not own these characters. No infringement of copyright is intended and no profit is being made from this piece of fan-fiction._

Moneypenny and Tanner stood in the doorway leading out into the lowest floor of the secured parking area for high-level MI6 employees. They each held themselves as if they were the last defense between what was outside the door and what was inside: broad stances, feet planted securely with their weight evenly distributed, sidearms easily accessible and arms crossed loosely. Anyone looking at them would have thought the building well-defended, at least until they took a second glance to appreciate the truth of the full scene unfolding. The pair stood watch with their best poker faces on as the three MI6 employees responsible for the majority of their headaches staggered across the scuffed concrete surface towards the Land Rover that was assigned to the trio that month.

If Eve had dared break character, she would have smirked widely as she contemplated the fact that the Land Rover's impeccable condition spoke volumes for the exhaustion of the three men approaching it. The last time either Trevelyan or Bond had been assigned such a "pedestrian" vehicle, it hadn't lasted even three days before having been reported stolen by the pair; it had eventually been located, slightly the worse for wear, stuck in a bog halfway out to Dover. Neither agent would admit to having driven it there, nor was there any evidence to be found on CCTV or otherwise to place either agent anywhere near the location. 

Eve had no idea how they'd managed it, but it was the fourth time such a fate had befallen a vehicle assigned to the pair of hooligans, and no one was stupid enough to believe that lightning struck the same spot four times. Luckily, the agents did seem to exercise some restraint in the damage they caused their victims, after the first incident wherein the unlucky automobile on the receiving end of their ire happened to ignite prematurely and triggered a small brushfire, alarming the inhabitants of the nearby village and causing a rather distressed telephone conversation between the constable in charge of the area and, eventually, Tanner himself. It had been somewhat embarrassing for all involved, and while there was no evidence of any kind to be found regarding the perpetrators of the incident, none of the subsequent "accidents" that befell such similar vehicles resulted in significant damage to either the vehicle itself or its surroundings.

Unfortunately, whoever was in charge of assigning the automobiles for the MI6 staff appeared utterly oblivious to the not quite so quiet war going on right in front of them and continued to assign 006 and 007 vehicles that apparently offended the men’s tender sensibilities, much to the silent amusement of Q and Eve. Much as she was focused on maintaining her blank expression, the corner of Eve’s mouth twitched ever so slightly as she recalled the truly epic cleaning job that had been required after the Mini Cooper debacle. How anyone thought that the two agents would be accepting of that car was beyond her comprehension. How anyone thought the two agents would even FIT in the car was also beyond her, and she had laughed herself silly when the Uni students had brought the car back the next morning, completely repainted in every shade of the rainbow, and the students completely unaware of the nature of the prank that had been pulled on the stuffy suits to whom they were returning the vibrant automobile.

Eve mentally shook herself free of her reminiscences and spared a glance from the corner of her eye at her companion. Whatever thoughts floated behind Tanner’s eyes, they were not reflecting on his face, and he stared fixedly at the trio assisting each other and their gear into the much maligned Land Rover. Alec had propped Q up against the rear passenger door while James fumbled with the keys, his usually nimble fingers made clumsy with fatigue. He didn't drop the keys, but it was a near miss, and took him twice as long as normal to get the key into the slim opening and unlock the door. While it might have been convenient to use fobs and remote entry, Q had proved to M within a month of starting his position that the fobs were cloneable and hackable, and that had been that.

The two agents maneuvered their companion into the front passenger seat carefully, and each checked to make sure the belt was fastened across him. Q was positively grey with fatigue, and it took Eve a few minutes to realise that she actually could not recall how long it had been since he last went home. He'd been snatching cat-naps on the futon in his office for at least the three weeks that James and Alec's latest mission had lasted, and who knew how long he'd been at it before _that_ clusterfuck of a mission had begun. Remarkably, neither agent was physically injured beyond the bumps and bruises that were to be expected. Mentally, however, both were almost as exhausted as the Quartermaster, and if he had been running himself ragged to be their eyes and ears, they were the ones who had been running, and on the run, for those three weeks, and it showed. They all needed a break, needed to get away, and one look at Q slumped in his chair as the extraction team whisked Bond and Trevelyan away to whatever back-country airport was providing their air support had convinced Moneypenny, Tanner, and R -- Q's second-in-command -- that a break was desperately needed, before one of the three actually did break and pulled the other two down with him.

Several hours and many hushed and hurried conversations between the Chief of Staff and the two women later, 006 and 007 finally staggered through the doors of Medical and put up only token resistance to their post-mission examinations, going through the motions more from force of habit than anything else. Which only served to reinforce the point the three co-conspirators had been making to M, and at that juncture Mallory had given the go-ahead and the plan had commenced.

Fiona Tulloch, an older woman who hailed from Shetland and who happened to be one of the few tough-as-nails nurses from Medical who took no nonsense from double Os, or anyone else, but treated everyone with the same grandmotherly care and thus was treated in return with as much respect as the agents were capable of giving anyone associated with her department, had examined and processed the two agents and had let slip that the Quartermaster hadn't slept in close to 96 hours and had been subsisting on tea and digestives for most of that time, and likely the week prior as well. Fiona had admonished both of the weary agents to "keep an eye on that wee laddie or it'll be him I'm seeing to next."

She had also concealed her grin as a sharp look of concern passed between the two blond-haired men, and had then bustled away to her next charge, her mission accomplished, as the two started a low-volumed discussion of how they could get their third to take a much-needed break without arousing his suspicions.

Tanner had been up next. He had visited Q, startling him awake as he entered the dimly lit office where the Quartermaster had been sitting with his hands loosely encircling the cup of stone-cold tea set on his workbench, staring into space past the monitors that covered the wall at the back of the office. He had not spilt the tea or dropped the cup, but it had been a near thing all told.

Tanner had sighed resignedly and informed Q that 006 and 007 had returned, had been processed by Medical, and were being put on mandatory leave for a minimum of three weeks, with the possibility of an extension of up to an additional five weeks, depending on how fast they recovered. 

Q had leapt up out of his chair in concern, but his usually agile tongue and razor-sharp wit had betrayed him, stuttering and slurring words in his haste to seek clarification for an unusually long term of mandatory leave.

"They are not badly injured, just over-stretched and near exhaustion," Tanner had hurried to reassure the floundering young man, a far cry from the poised and cool Quartermaster the agents, minions, and other staff were used to dealing with. Q’s knees had almost given out in his relief, and he would have made a fast acquaintance with the floor if Bill hadn't caught his nearest bicep and held him up until his legs steadied.

As if the Chief of Staff needed any further proof of how far gone the young man was, Q hadn't even appeared to notice Tanner's intervention but had carried on muttering recriminations and half-formed sentences about how reckless the two agents were and how little regard for their own safety and well-being they held. Tanner had bitten his tongue and managed not to point out how very much this reminded him of a certain pot and a certain kettle.

Needless to say, when Tanner had relayed Mallory's order that the Quartermaster was being tasked with making sure that the two agents actually _rested_ on their leave, and would be spending the duration of it with them, he had met with little resistance, especially when he had pointed out that Q had been making a quiet push to give R more experience with running the branch, so that should it be necessary, Q-branch would remain optimally functional regardless of the Quartermaster's status. Q had long insisted and dearly wished to avoid the chaos, uncertainty, and worst of all, inefficiency that had taken place immediately after Boothroyd's death. It was one thing for R to run the branch with Q looking over her shoulder, but another thing entirely to run it on her own, and this looked to be the perfect opportunity to give her that chance. Tanner had wasted no time whatsoever in reiterating that point.

Q had immediately located R and instructed her to look after his branch while he looked after his "idiot agents", and had then stumbled off in the direction of Medical to collect his charges. He had been single-minded in his focus, and had entirely missed the look that had passed between R and Tanner. R had winked, actually _winked_ , at Bill, and while he was still gaping at the saucy look framed beneath her fluorescent magenta hair, she'd turned on her heel and proceeded to take the reins of "her" branch almost as efficiently as her boss. Tanner had sighed in relief to see it, and let go of the secret worry he'd been carrying since he, R, and Eve had cooked up the scheme. It was one thing to contemplate someone other than Q running the branch, it was quite another to actually see someone else stepping into his shoes, and then to see the rest of the minions continue right along, without missing a beat. Q had been right to put his faith in the woman; she was as much a force of nature as Q, and would do whatever she had to to keep Q-branch and MI6 moving forward steadily.

Just as Eve and Bill were starting to wonder if they needed to request assistance to get the three men into the Land Rover, James managed to haul himself into the driver's seat while Alec practically crawled onto the bench seat in the back. The engine roared to life as Eve and Bill exchanged a glance, and it was plain as day that each was thinking the same thing, wondering if perhaps they ought to have assigned a driver for the trio.

However, as the thought crossed their minds, they watched Bond carefully back the vehicle out of its stall and cautiously navigate out of the parking structure. There were no screeching tires, no dramatic exits, and as the vehicle disappeared around the corner towards ramp and the exit checkpoint, Moneypenny and Tanner finally relaxed their stances and their shoulders slumped.

"Well, that went better than I expected," Bill noted.

Eve smirked and winked, tossing a last comment over her shoulder as she turned and walked off, "Of course, you had the two sneakiest women in MI6 on the case. What did you expect?"

He rolled his eyes skyward before shaking his head and trailing along behind her. He had no retort. She wasn't wrong.

~~~ OOQ ~~~

Although James usually abhorred the oversized bulk of a Land Rover, not to mention the lack of classic lines and all-important horsepower, for once he was grateful for the sturdy vehicle (but would not admit to that even under extreme duress!) as he cautiously made his way through the streets of sleeping London towards the terrace house that he shared with his two partners.

The traffic signals and street lamps coloured the features of his companions lurid and strange shades of orange and green, and he was glad of the hour for once.The volume of drivers at 3 a.m. was minimal and not a problem for him to handle, even in the exhausted state in which he found himself. That bloody mission had really taken it out of him. James sighed, he was starting to think he was getting too old for this game.

He glanced over at Q, slumped sideways against the door and frowned again at the dark smudges beneath his eyes and the hollowed out planes of his face. Nurse Tulloch had been right, he did not look healthy, and James would make damn sure that Q got the break he obviously desperately needed.

James’ eyes flicked to the image reflected in the rearview mirror and sighed again. Alec was leaning against his door just like Q and the rest of him sprawled haphazardly across the full width of the bench seat; he was obviously only semi-conscious with his lids half-closed and his hands hanging limply between his knees, his body moving gently with the motion of the car as James navigated around the corner. Another one who obviously needed a break, and James silently promised Alec that he'd make sure he got what he needed as well, the nebulous thoughts that had been floating in the back of James’ mind suddenly coalescing into a coherent plan.

With a firmer resolve, and some of his own exhaustion shed now that he had a goal fixed in his mind, 007 pulled the Land Rover into their dimly lit garage a short time later having mentally completed the first portion of the plan.

Alec startled awake when the motion and noise of the car ceased, but Q dozed on, waking only when James shook his shoulder gently.

"Q, love, we're home," Alec slurred as he patted Q's shoulder from the back seat and then hauled himself out into the chill air.

Q frowned and shivered, and finally opened his eyes and yawned massively before blinking at James, looking like nothing so much as a tousle-headed owl with his spectacles slightly askew on his face. "Home?" he repeated sleepily and sighed in relief when James confirmed it.

Q pushed his door open carefully and then stumbled out of the car and across the short space to the door into the house, where Alec was shedding clothing piece by piece on his way up the stairs to the master bedroom’s en suite with its enormous shower stall that had been one of the key selling points when the three of them had bought this place.

Q grunted in relief as James slung one arm around his waist and helped him up the two steps and into the house proper, shaking his head at the trail of clothing the other agent had left for them to follow.

"Hot water," Q mumbled at him, and Bond laughed softly as they paused for him to kick the door shut behind them and tap in the keycode that would engage the extensive physical and electronic security system that Q had designed and installed after they moved in.

They made their way up the stairs carefully, valiantly succeeding in not tripping over any of Alec's discarded clothing before they reached the top. When they opened the door, a cloud of steam welcomed them in and James had to give a nod to the wisdom of letting Alec head up first. Rather than just taking a shower, he had turned on the taps full blast, filling the almost-could-be-counted-as-a-pool bathtub with steaming hot water and James, for perhaps the millionth time, said a silent prayer of gratitude to their personal genius who had decided to install a commercial-grade hot water tank in the unit, which allowed them to shower properly while at the same time filling the tub, so that they could step straight away into the bath and soak away whatever aches and strains had accumulated in each of their bodies.

As James and Q began to fumble their way through the removal of each other's clothes, Alec shut off the shower and slid into the tub, groaning almost obscenely as the heat soaked into him. He fit his neck into one of the contoured headrests that they'd added to the tub after renovating the room, and let his body go limp, confident from much practise that the headrest would prevent him from sliding any further under the water.

Alec was practically asleep by the time James and Q finally conquered all the buttons on James' suit and it was with an immense sigh of relief that the two staggered into the shower to wash away the accumulated sweat and grime from heaven only knew how many days spent pelting across Europe or stood shoulder-deep in computer hardware or at a workbench overseeing missions.

After precariously leaning against the wall attempting to wash himself, Q admitted defeat and sat on the bench that saw very little use as a shower aid but was typically put to far more pleasant uses. Tonight, however, no one had any energy to spare for such erotic pursuits, and Q finished his wash with gritted teeth and dogged determination.

James was finishing his rinse when Q looked up, and the boffin was grateful to be spared the sight of pink-tinged water, nor did he see any new additions to the plethora of scars that crisscrossed his partner's skin.

They smiled tiredly at each other, no words necessary to convey the emotion each could see in the other's eyes. James held out a hand and hauled Q to his feet when he took it, and they made their dripping way out of the cubical and slid into the steaming water on either side of Alec, who did not so much as twitch as the displaced water jostled him.

Q had the presence of mind to set an alarm on the phone that one of them had left on the nearby counter, and then slotted his own neck into the remaining headrest and stretched his hands out to each side, loosely lacing his fingers into those of his sleeping and almost-sleeping partners. James squeezed his fingers slightly but didn't bother opening his eyes, and Q's mind drifted, his body buoyed by the water and comforted by the presence of his two partners once again. Much as he was a workaholic and could work for days straight when necessary, Q was far more likely to do so when both Alec and James were away. Their home always felt painfully empty without the presence of the two agents, so Q sought refuge in the hum and constant noise of the equipment in his office at MI6.

Now that his agents had returned, the house felt like home again. A tiny smile ticked up the corner of Q’s mouth as he finally let go and gave into the sleep his body craved so desperately. All was right in his world, for the moment at least.

The gentle chimes of Q's alarm woke the trio an hour later, and they staggered up out of the tub, long ago cleverly reprogrammed by Q to slowly cool so that they could soak and sleep without fear of turning into lobsters. Grabbing the towels, they began drying the closest skin, whether their own or each other's, and then moved as a six-legged unit into the bedroom where they collapsed into the bed. James dragged the duvet over them, and then all three sank swifter than lead down into the depths of sleep, safe and secure in a tangled heap of limbs swathed in soft cotton.

The next morning, or rather, the following afternoon, James woke Q and Alec and chivvied them up out of bed and down into the kitchen. He steered them over to the positively enormous quantity of food he'd ordered in, and they all tucked in, each in need of the extra calories after the last few weeks.

Once the meal was consumed and the detritus cleared away, James handed each of them a suitcase with instructions to pack up for a trip.

"Warm clothes. Lots of warm clothes! Wooly jumpers, gloves, hats, those lined boots we bought last Christmas, the works. Especially you, Q! We're leaving for Skyfall first thing in the morning!" James announced as he picked up his own suitcase and put his words into action.

~~~ OOQ ~~~

The drive was long but uneventful and rather peaceful all told. Alec and James took turns, Q having never bothered to get his license. He was a Londoner born and bred with a proper public transit system at his disposal. Not to mention the fact that the wait list for the road tests was a mile long, so what was the point? Plus he had two pet agents to act as chauffeur, should the need be dire enough.

And last but not least, he'd watched those exact same two creatures putting the junior agents through their paces, and he had no desire whatsoever to be subjected to the sort of backseat driving that both James and Alec were capable of individually, let alone the debacle that would occur if both agents were backseat driving at the same time, feeding off each other and egging one another on. That would lead to either a nervous breakdown on his part or a pair of penniless, creditless agents on theirs. When they aggravated him past the point of no return, they reaped the consequences of it. No, thank you, it was safer for all concerned that Q leave the operation of motor vehicles to the two agents, and the two agents left the covering of tracks and the navigations (when necessary) to Q.

Alec had taken them out of London, utilising some interesting little shortcuts and backways to avoid the truly prodigious amount of road construction taking place. Q supposed it was a good thing, all that construction meant money in the pockets of the everyday denizens of London, but boy did it ever snarl up traffic while they worked. Thankfully Alec lived up to his reputation and had them out and clear in far less time than Q had expected to be honest.

He took them past Northampton and Leicester before stopping and swapping places with James at a small fish and chips shop in Shepshed where they had lunch, just as the place opened. They picked up water and some odds and ends at the Tesco across the way before heading back to the M1 and then north once more.

James drove them leisurely up through the middle of England, avoiding Nottingham and bypassing Sheffield. He headed northwest up the A1, ignoring Leeds and York entirely, before heading west onto the A66 and into the Lake District. He stopped at a little inn just outside of Penrith where the three men had their supper. They walked about for a little while, stretching their legs and admiring the rolling hills that surrounded them before piling back into the Land Rover and out onto the M6, heading north again.

Alec guided them past Carlisle and on to the A74 and the M74 which took them up to Glasgow where they once again stopped for food, meat pies this time, at a bustling place in Dumbarton. They picked up extra and packed them away for later before finally filling up the tank with petrol. While the range on the Land Rover was impressive, over 500 miles on a single tank was definitely testing their luck. James took the wheel for the final push, taking them out of the last large city they'd see for three weeks, and driving up the A82 along the shores of Loch Lomond.

Q regretted the late hour, as he stared out into the blackness. Loch Lomond was a lovely sight, but at that hour, he could see nothing but a few lights winking in the distance across the waters.

As the display on his phone counted closer to eleven o'clock, they drove on through the darkness, passing Loch Tulla and then the duo of Lochan na h-Achlaise and Loch Ba. Finally, as Q was beginning to fall asleep once more, they reached the turnoff for Glen Etive and headed down the narrow road towards Skyfall. 

As he navigated the twists and turns in the pitch blackness of the Highland night, James talked about the area, noting how isolated it was, reminding both of his passengers that the nearest town was half an hour's car ride from the estate. That meant petrol, hospital, and anything else they might require would either need to be brought in or done without. In fact, the provisions that they would need would most likely have to be had from Fort William, an hour's drive to the north, past Glencoe, Loch Leven, and Loch Linnhe.

James grinned as he pulled up to the front of the building and switched off the Land Rover. Had Q ever even been out on a loch before? City-born as he was, Bond did not think that Q had, and it wasn't like they had had the time on previous visits to the Lodge, too busy with renovations or other activities to think of it.

There were boats available for rent at Fort William. Perhaps at some point during this stay the three of them could manage to get out on the water; it was certainly time and beyond it to introduce Q to sailing. James had fond memories of such activities from the time before his parents had died. His father, tall and proud, telling him tales of the histories of the area as he showed his son how to hold the tiller and how to watch out for the winds changing -- the clues given by the ripples on the water, the ruffling of the sail -- all while his mother watched contentedly, trusting her menfolk to keep the little craft and her passengers safe and dry. It was those very early memories that had inspired James' lifelong love of the sea, and set him on the path that led in the end to his joining the Royal Navy and eventually winding up on the doorstep of MI6.

"Right then," James clapped his hands together, "let's get inside and get the old aga fired up. It'll be colder than the ninth circle of Hell in there until that thing gets warmed up."

With a groan that sounded like it was coming from his very bones, Alec stretched until his back popped and then climbed out of the car, prompting a muttered round of swearing from Q as the arctic air invaded the warm space.

"On second thought, Q, you stay here for a bit," Bond told the shivering man as he turned the key and the Land Rover began blowing warm air into the interior once more. He checked that the brake was set and then slipped out and unlocked the front door of the dark structure, letting himself and Alec into the icy foyer and fishing for the torch he'd stuffed into his pocket before leaving Dumbarton.

Once the torch was lit, he led the way through the halls until they reached the kitchen doorway, where they paused for a moment while James hauled open the cupboard that housed the breaker panel and began flipping switches. Once he finished, James played the torch light over the kitchen and then reached around the doorframe for the switch.

Bright light flooded the space and the pair of agents squinted for a few seconds until their eyes adjusted. The kitchen looked much as it had the last time they'd made the trek up. Kincade kept up the maintenance of the place and had the flue and chimneys regularly cleaned and any birds' nests removed from their tops. He also had a crew of fellows from Glencoe come down once a year to patch up the roofs of the chapel, house, and shed, replacing any slate blown off by the winter gales, checking all the windows, and so on.

James was pleasantly surprised at how neat and tidy the place looked. It had been a while, but he didn't remember leaving it in such a pristine state. Though, on second thought, if Q had been the last one in the chamber it was more than likely that he'd tidied it up. For some reason, Q seemed to have a near-pathological need for clean food-preparation areas… then again, given some of the experiments Alec had succumbed to the temptation of trying -- which resulted in assorted toxic chemicals splattered across the cutlery and other kitchen contents -- James could not actually blame the boffin for his caution. 

While Alec had so far managed to avoid burning the place down, strictly due to its incredibly thick stone walls according to Q, he had managed to contaminate more than one set of consumables with explosive residue. Sodium nitrate was not Q's idea of an appropriate seasoning for his supper, for some reason. Possibly it had something to do with spending summer holidays with his cousin Sherlock, who from what James could tell based on some of the stories Q had told, had as much a penchant for explosions and bizarre experiments as Alec did.

Shaking his head clear of the fond memories, Bond led Alec into the cheerful space and set about firing up the stove. The anthracite was stacked neatly in its bin in the pantry, and it was the work of only a few minutes to collect enough while Alec verified the flue was clear and opened the ash door to make sure there was no old residue left inside.

At a nod from Alec, James carefully placed the anthracite and lit it, closing up the stove and leaving it to warm. It should be ready just in time for Q's morning tea.

Then he and Alec made their way over to the sitting room and readied the fireplace. James left Alec to the task of actually getting the fire going, and ventured up the frigid stairs to collect duvets and pillows from the linen cupboard. He dumped the lot on the sofa and then headed out to bring their gear inside and wake up Q.

The boffin shuffled into the sitting room behind James, carrying his messenger bag and one suitcase, while James manhandled the other two suitcases and the bags of pies, water, and other necessities they'd picked up at the various stops along the way.

"We'll need to head over to Fort William tomorrow to pick up more supplies," James reminded the others as Alec stood from his crouch before the now blazing fire and stretched another spine-popping arch.

Q and Alec dragged the thick rug from the center of the room to the edge of the hearth and proceeded to construct a duvet-nest while James dug out toothbrushes, razors, and other essentials for the next morning before toeing off his boots to join his partners in the makeshift nest.

As usual, Q was sandwiched between the larger, and warmer, blond-haired men, and he kissed each of them on the tips of their noses as they all snuggled down into the rapidly warming bedding and sleep swept them away.

The next morning, bright sunlight shining on his face roused Q from sleep, and he blinked the crust from his eyes, glancing around in confusion for a moment at his hazy surroundings before his brain kicked into gear and he realised he was at Skyfall Lodge, lying in a pile of still-warm duvets on the floor of the sitting room.

Once he located his glasses, carefully left on the side table at the end of the sofa, he could see from the angle of the sun that it was late morning, and that the fire had been tended to at some point, as fresh logs had been added and the flames danced across them happily.

He sat up and fumbled his way into the shoes he'd worn the prior day, and then stumbled his way into the kitchen.

"Tea…" he mumbled as he flopped down onto the cushion of the sturdy wood chair by the table, truly a monstrous creation, large enough to seat a dozen people, and heavy enough that even James and Alec had a difficult time moving it around.

"Here you are, love," a steaming cup appeared by his hand and Alec brushed his lips across the tangled mop of dark curls that passed for his hair.

James grinned over his shoulder from where he stood at the stove, attention split between a saucepan steaming slowly on the simmering plate and two frying pans that hissed with the sizzle of sausages and the crackle of rashers of bacon.

When he deemed the batch to be done, James opened the warming oven and retrieved the platter of already-cooked bangers and slid the rest out of the pan to join their fellows. As he closed the door on the delectable smell, Alec joined him at the counter and began cracking eggs into a bowl as James called out an array of spices and herbs:

"Paprika… a bit of thyme… three twists of the peppermill… pinch of salt… cayenne, but just a wee bit, we don't all have an iron stomach like you do!" and he glared at his sous-chef half-heartedly while Alec snickered and Q groaned into his mug of tea.

"It was ONE TIME!" Q lamented. "One time! And how was I to know that lamb curry would be that spiced, OR that those spices wouldn't agree with me! The blasted dish haunted me for days!"

"We know!" chorused the two agents, giving in to their laughter as Q glared at them.

They'd needed on-site technical support on a mission to Canada of all places, and Q had been the one assigned to provide it. He hadn't been Quartermaster at that time, nor had the trio been together yet with the two best friends still circling each other like wary cats, neither wishing to make the first move and be proven wrong while Q admired them both silently and despaired of ever having a chance with either of the notorious men. But that adventure had gone a long way towards stripping away the walls between the three of them and making each appreciate the others as human beings with all the vulnerability and soft parts that every human has.

It was hard not to see past the prim and proper exterior that Q held up between himself and the world when that exterior was crumbling as it had courtesy of the lamb curry; the boffin had alternately hunched in misery over the toilet or clutched the hastily provided bin as his body attempted to retch out everything he'd ever eaten in his entire life. He'd felt like his throat and his bottom were connected by a river of fire that had threaded down his esophagus, through his stomach and intestines, to coil malevolently in his colon, until every inch of his digestive system was protesting violently, and he was convinced someone had filled him full to the brim with molten lava. It had quite put him off spicy food for almost a year afterwards, and even now he was far more cautious when trying new things.

Whatever had been used in that dish had affected only him as both Alec and James had eaten the same food and survived with no ill-effects, so that had ruled out food poisoning. Though, based on some of the things he'd seen Alec and James consume with gusto, the jury was still out as to whether they could have been affected in the first place. He chalked that up to their survival instincts and the training that allowed them to find sustenance in the most unlikely of places and from the most unusual of sources. He was grateful that technical staff were not required to take survival training. As much as he'd been told that fried sago palm grubs taste like bacon, Q had no desire whatsoever to try the horrid-looking things. Maybe if he were starving, but until then he'd pass!

They came back from Canada a week later than scheduled and much more relaxed in each other's presence. Alec and James had put aside their wary circling to care for the ailing boffin; there had been times when Q had been only semi-coherent from dehydration, despite Alec’s and James’ best efforts to get broths and whatever liquid they could into him, and he might possibly have made some unintended comments that two intelligent men like 006 and 007 had been able to string together into a new picture of Q and his feelings for them.

It had been a complete shock to all three when six months later the two agents had shown up at Q's flat at 4 a.m., pissed out of their minds after a mission that went to hell five ways from Sunday and cost MI6 some good people, looking for a place in which they felt safe enough to crash and decompress.

Q had had the presence of mind to call in to MI6 to let them know the agents' whereabouts, how the rest of his holiday week was going to be spent, and had then gone through the next three days returning the favour from Canada. He kept the men in fluids and let them sleep or talk or just stare morosely off into space as the need hit them. Q hadn't been as affected by the tragedy as the two agents; he hadn't known any of the casualties personally nor had he run any missions for them yet, but Q could sympathise with the responsibility and helplessness that the two men had felt, and he mourned the losses just as he would any other MI6 agent killed in action. 

James and Alec had been working as mentors for the trio of MI6 junior agents and their handler. As it had been only their second mission in the field, the younger agents had been shadowing their more experienced counterparts. The mission completed, Alec and James had been miles away, headed for their extraction point when the explosion had ripped through a supposedly safe building, killing everyone inside, including the handler and all three junior agents. 

There was nothing either double O could have done, either about the bomb or about the faulty intelligence that had missed its presence, but despite a reputation for being ruthlessly cold-hearted, each man was anything but, and James and Alec had felt the losses keenly. They had muttered repeatedly about "Bloody lost potential," and "What a fucking waste," and more softly, "They were so God damned fucking young!"

By the end of the three days, Q had learned some interesting things he'd never have thought applied to either man.

He had discovered that James missed his parents terribly, even 30 years after their deaths, and had many fond memories of time spent with them up in the Highlands, tromping through the gorse and exploring the various _beinns_ and _gleanns_ and _sraths_ that made the Highlands the unique and beautiful place it was, and that the odd Gaelic phrase popped up in his dialog, along with a plethora of other languages, when he was particularly out of his head.

He had found out that Alec was vaguely embarrassed to be asexual but craved touch like an abandoned kitten (which partly explained why he had no concept of personal space or boundaries), and while not particularly interested in having sex himself, liked to watch, and touch, and _be_ touched, while others did. He had been immensely horrified and then relieved in quick succession when he realised he'd let the fact slip to James and Q, and that they had then dismissed it just as quickly, accepting him as is and swearing with weary fervour to guard his secret closely. Q had been secretly impressed that Alec had not only managed to conceal his sexuality from Medical, Psych, and his best friend James, but was also able to carry out the more sexually demanding aspects of his job -- including honeypot missions -- with no one the wiser. Many months later, on a lazy morning when the three of them had been lying tangled in the warmth of their enormous bed, Q had brought up the subject, and Alec had just shrugged and muttered something about the parts all working, he just wasn't exactly attracted to people. And that had been that.

Q had also learned that James could cook and loved doing so and was as good at it as many restaurant chefs, making the art of it into a science and enjoying not only the process of making the food, but also the consuming of it; he loved nothing so much as the quiet lull in conversation that occurs when the people drawn up to a table are too busy eating to speak to each other.

Last but certainly not least, Q had learned that Alec was a pyromaniac of the highest order, and approached the concoction of incendiaries with the same scientific dedication with which James approached his cooking. Alec thought nothing of using his own kitchen as a laboratory, and Q had been somewhat horrified when between the two of them, neither James nor Alec could recall exactly how many flats Alec had been kicked out of due to the fires he'd started. No one had ever been hurt, but apparently landlords took a dim view of testing gunpowder and other such incendiaries in the kitchen sink, at one in the morning. The excuse "I was bored" did not go over well either and gave Q flashbacks to his cousin's dismissive behaviour over similar incidents. Thankfully Sherlock’s partner, John, was well-equipped to keep the insanity mostly contained, and there were enough bizarre and unusual cases crossing the desks at Scotland Yard to keep the tall and gangly man's attention on crime-solving and off explosions, for the most part anyway.

In the years that had come after, Alec and Q had found compatibility with each other that had its roots in the very destructive tendency that Q had first despaired over. They were like kindred spirits, two mad geniuses inventing and tinkering together, and some of the best pieces of Q-branch tech had been conceived in the midst of one of the pair’s tea-and-vodka-fueled binges. Thankfully, the three had set some ground-rules right at the start; James and Q both had been adamant that no non-communications tech, incendiaries, or explosive weaponry of any sort were allowed in the kitchen of their London home.

Somehow though, that rule always seemed to slide when they were at Skyfall. It might have something to do with the fact that there was a room dedicated as a workspace in London, the cellar that had been redone during their renovation served the purpose well, insulated from the neighbours and the rest of the house, while still being well-ventilated and close at hand. At Skyfall, however, there was no such room available, and because the rest of the house was usually quite chilly, they naturally tended to congregate in the kitchen or the sitting room, where discussions sometimes morphed from the verbal into practical demonstrations, and accidents had been known to happen.

As the sniggering from James and Alec subsided, Q looked up to see the two men carrying the fruits of their labour over to the table. The platter of sausages smelt divine, and the bacon looked equally amazing, all crispy around the edges just the way Q liked it. They'd produced an enormous batch of scrambled eggs as well, and the small saucepan on the simmering plate turned out to contain tomatoes poached in the fat from the bacon, succulent and one of Alec's favourite things to eat for breakfast, though not something they were able to make often, due to how much patience was required to get them cooked just right.

As Q picked up his mug and took a large swallow, he screwed up his face in distaste and swore fiercely as soon as he was able.

At the quizzical looks he received, he pointed to his cup and pronounced it "Stone bloody cold!"

James laughed and stood up from his place to retrieve the pot, only to discover that it was cold as well. He set the kettle on the hob with a sigh.

"As much as it pains me to say it, we need to buy a tea cosy," he announced to the room, to which Alec reacted by setting his head down on the table to conceal his mirth, though his shaking shoulders and the muffled sounds gave him away.

Q looked affronted at first. Grandmothers had tea cosies! Not Quartermasters! Quartermasters invented things to make tea cosies obsolete! The very idea was ludicrous! But he had to admit Bond was correct, the place was chill enough that if he didn't drink the tea right away it cooled in no time.

"Cheer up," James told him, "We'll pick one up when we make our supplies run to Fort William."

Q sighed deeply, and then nodded. With his luck, Alec or James would conspire against him and buy the most garish, pastel-coloured monstrosity to be found and then fib shamelessly and tell him it was really the only one they could find, so sorry old chap. And then they'd laugh about it every single time he pulled the dreadful thing out of the cupboard. They were downright evil that way.

They polished off the rest of their breakfast in short order, amazingly little being left behind to be returned to the warming oven and made part of their supper. They cleaned up the kitchen in companionable silence and then returned to the sitting room to dig through the luggage for clothes and the cupboards for towels before they headed up the stairs to finally make use of the water that had been as cold as arctic runoff the night before, but was lovely and hot with electricity back on to the water heater.

That evening, after several hours spent toodling around Fort William picking up all manner of things, the trio collapsed on the sofa in satisfaction, just enjoying the presence of each other.

Q was the first to recover, and popped off to the kitchen to make himself some tea and some coffee for the two agents, who smiled their thanks as he passed around the steaming mugs.

Half an hour later, he swore colourfully, at least half of it in French, when he went to get himself a refill. James and Alec exchanged a quizzical glance before heaving themselves up off the cushions and poking their heads into the kitchen to see what was the matter.

Q's frustrated gaze met theirs as he announced, "We forgot the bloody tea cosy!"

James laughed, and dug out a thick tea towel from the cupboard. "Here, use this for now. We'll get one next time."

Muttering nasty strings of French under his breath, Q dumped the cold tea into the sink and made another pot, and smothered it in the towel as soon as he'd added the hot water, as James and Alec threw together a quick supper, sliding the last of the Dumbarton meat pies into the appropriate oven, fishing out the leftover sausages from the warming oven, and collecting plates and utensils and piling them on the table.

They ate clustered at one end of the large table, and Q felt his skin flush whenever he made eye contact with James, who only smirked and winked at Q's blush.

Alec was apparently feeling the mood as well, his socked foot sliding up and down Q's calf at irregular intervals.

Eventually, they were finished with the food, and James and Q took their places in front of the large sink, scrubbing and rinsing while Alec disappeared upstairs.

Half an hour later the kitchen was as ship-shape as Q could have possibly wanted and the two men turned their feet towards the stairs up to the second storey.

They found Alec in their bedroom, spreading linens on the enormous bed. They'd had to rent a lorry to haul it up from London, a week's adventure in and of itself. The colourful language the two agents had used as they manhandled the mattress up the stairs had been an education for Q, not only in the creativity of the words used, but also in the multitude of languages that had spouted from the huffing, red-faced, shirtless agents as they wrestled with the marshmallow behemoth.

He would admit it to no one, but Q had been immensely amused by the entire affair, and would deny all involvement when questioned if photos surfaced documenting the near-defeat of Britain's two premiere intelligence agents by a mattress that had aspirations of being the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. He might or might not have kept said photos on a secure server, almost as well-secured and protected as MI6's personnel records, and those photos might or might not have made appearances only when the agents pictured in them were weeks into deep-cover missions. Or being complete arses. Either excuse would do.

Q sighed in contentment as he left the icy hallway and entered the warm bedroom. That would have been Alec’s first task after leaving the kitchen: build up the Guy Falkes-worthy bonfire currently crackling away merrily behind the grate. Neither 006 or 007 ever seemed to feel the cold at Skyfall, but Q was sensitive to it; his wiry and lean build did not lend itself to the kind of furnace-like body temperatures of his partners.

Trailing his fingers across Alec's back as he passed, Q headed into the bathroom on the other side of the bed. The towels they had used that morning were slung over the foldout dryer rack Q'd had since his days at Uni, and it was the work of moments to lift the lightweight contraption and move it over to the hearth to warm. That was one thing he missed about the central heating they enjoyed in the London house: radiators! Draping one's towel over the radiator was the best way ever to step out of a steaming hot shower and wrap oneself up in fluffy heaven.

Turning on the taps, Q stripped himself efficiently while the cold water bled from the pipes, sliding under the water just as it began to steam up the room. James slipped in behind him, and Alec joined them a moment later, making the not-so-small space feel comfortably crowded.

As much as Q enjoyed energetic shower sex, he preferred the London shower for that since it was practically designed for it, and so contented himself with sliding a soapy flannel over every inch of Alec while James washed Q's dark mop of hair and Alec busied himself with a second flannel for James. There were a couple near misses that set them all to grinning as shampoo-coated heads moved into shower-sprays unexpectedly, but they managed to get everything washed and rinsed without burning eyes or any other damage inflicted.

As Q wrung out the flannels and hung them up to dry, he remembered something else he missed about their London home: salux! The fluorescent yellow, green, and pink nylon cloths had been something Alec had brought home after a short mission in Japan, and once he'd tried the coarse material, Q had been hooked as had James. The texture was coarse without being painful, and the tingling, refreshed feeling after scrubbing oneself from top to bottom with one of the cloths was amazing. Q had researched them a little, mostly trying to figure out where to get them in London, and the list of benefits had made him giggle: exfoliating, quick drying, aesthetically pleasing, and so on. Though to be fair, the quick drying aspect was really the best part. He'd never quite gotten used to the musty smell that developed when flannels didn't have the chance to dry out properly when one traveled, and the salux cloths were marvelous for that: hang them over the shower rod and they were usually dry by the morning and could be packed up into a suitcase along with the rest of a person's gear. Wrap them in a towel and wring them out first before hanging them up, and it was a guaranteed thing that they would be bone-dry by morning.

A piping-hot towel dropping down over his head startled him out of his mental dissertation on the benefits of salux, and muffled the squeak that escaped his throat.

He scrubbed the towel over his head before pushing it up to peer at his companions. Alec still had his head buried in his own towel, vigorously rubbing the water from his hair, but James, with his short locks, stood leaning against the doorframe casually, his towel slung around his neck, and Q's breath stuttered in his chest as his eyes skated up the form displayed before him.

He groped for his glasses and set the still somewhat foggy lenses on his nose for a second look.

James' eyes burned as he returned Q's gaze, and he smirked as Q's skin, already pink from the shower, flushed a darker shade from the tips of his ears down his neck and below.

Alec finally emerged from his towel-cocoon and a slow smile stretched his lips as he saw the tableau before him.

Hurriedly removing the worst of the water from his muscled form, he reached for Q, pulling him sharply against his chest, taking the forgotten towel from his motionly hands. He sank to a crouch and Q's hands automatically lifted to Alec's broad shoulders to steady himself as the larger man ran the purloined towel down the smaller man's back and legs, by no means drying him, but removing the worst of the water from his skin.

All the while, Q's eyes were locked on James', and Alec's lips widened into a truly evil smirk as he noted the interest Q's cock was taking in the situation.

He made short work of drying the front of his lean companion, working his way up from his shins, deliberately avoiding the part of his anatomy that most wanted to be touched, but then pressing the towel roughly across his nipples.

Finally the eye-contact between the two men was broken as Q's back arched and a gasp escaped him as he unconsciously pressed up into the coarse texture of the material.

Alec dropped the towel and rolled forward to kneel at Q's feet, his buttocks firmly planted on his heels, callused hands sliding from Q's hips up past the hollow of his belly and around to skate over the dips and ridges of his ribs and spine.

Hot lips pressed against the base of Alec's skull and then equally callused hands slipped into the still-damp threads of his hair to cup his head tenderly for a moment before exerting gentle upward pressure to draw Alec up onto his knees and guide his mouth to the soft flesh of Q's belly, while thickly muscled thighs pressed against his back.

James' feet shifted against his shin-bones, and one hand slipped free of Alec’s hair as James reached for Q, slipping his fingers in turn into the darker mass of Q's shaggy hair and tilting his head up slightly, the perfect angle for a kiss that started sweet and tender, and evolved quickly into tangling tongues and nipping teeth, lips slick and rosy when they finally broke apart.

Alec licked a broad strip up Q's skin, a shiver and goosebumps skating across the pale skin in response, before leaning his head back against James's hipbone, "Sorry to interrupt. You blokes might be happy kissing all night, but my knees are going to start complaining if I don't get up soon."

James laughed as Q blushed, again, and then whimpered brokenly as his cock twitched when James clasped his hands around Alec's torso up under his arms, and lifted him effortlessly to his feet, steadying him when he stumbled in surprise at the sudden change of position. There was something infinitely arousing about the sheer strength contained in the forms of the two agents, and Q freely admitted to both how much it turned him on when they manhandled him or each other. Even Alec, asexual that he was, found a sublime exhilaration in the feeling, knowing that the pairs of hands that held him, moved him, steadied him, caressed him, and once in awhile coded or killed to protect him, were guided only by the fierce love that the three partners shared. And he was happy to return the favour when the occasion called for it, or when Q begged him to hold James just there as the boffin took the double O apart with tongue and lips and fingers.

The trio made their gloriously naked way into the warm bedroom, the firelight glinting off the few drops of water scattered still across their skin.

Alec had left the duvet heaped up on the chair beside the bed, and only the sheet and a mound of pillows at the head graced the mattress. He climbed up onto the soft expanse and settled himself against the fluffy pile. Gesturing to James to join him, he began stroking the scarred flanks of his lover as soon as the tall man was stretched out beside him.

Q stood a moment longer in the doorway, drinking in the sight of the two agents laid out before him. Then Alec's nibble fingers skated across James' ribs and tweaked his nipple sharply, causing it to pebble instantly and the blond-hair agent's back to arch into the sensation. A whine fought its way between James' lips as his head tipped back, and Q could feel his breath quicken at the sound.

Three paces brought him to the edge of the bed just as Alec dipped his head and fastened his teeth to the fleshy expanse of skin covering James' nearest shoulder.

James groaned at the pinch and tug, the flesh between his legs thickening as his hips rolled involuntarily.

The mattress dipped as Q knelt at the foot of the bed, his graceful fingers sliding over the tops of James' feet, his nails drawing parallel lines up his shins as Q shifted forward on his knees, nudging the larger man's legs further apart as he progressed up the bed.

Q ran his fingertips over the contours of James's knees, tracing the knobs and dips gently and then leaning forward to press a line of kisses up the curve of his left vastus lateralis muscle, which flexed and shivered at the warmth of Q’s breath ghosting over the skin.

Sliding his hands further up the thick thigh muscles, Q looked up through his lashes, and found Alec watching him avidly, his rough-skinned hands still busy stroking over James' torso and arms, his teeth nipping at James' right ear. A shudder passed through James each time Alec's tongue flicked out to trace a damp thread from deltoid, over trapezius, and up to the hinge of James' jaw.

Alec grinned wolfishly as he caught Q's glance, and that was all the encouragement Q needed, swooping down once more to set his teeth to the soft skin on the inside of James' thigh, who could not contain the whine that clawed out of his throat at the sensation.

Q reached higher and dragged his nails across the flesh of James' belly, feeling the muscles harden and twitch as his body reacted to the pain-pleasure. His legs fell aside even further and Q wriggled a little more up the bed, nibbling and lapping at the gently flushing skin.

Gripping each of James' legs behind the knee, Q lifted his legs even further apart, so that his shoulders could rest comfortably between James' thighs, legs loosely bent and feet planted on the mattress. Q slid his arms around those strongly muscled thighs, unconsciously tracing the scars that littered them and laying a series of little bites over the skin, slowly moving higher until Q was nuzzling into the musky flesh at the apex. He pulled James' left thigh outward, almost flat to the mattress, to give himself better access.

As Q buried his face into the crease, his cheek brushing against James' thick and full length, his chin moving against his bollocks, Alec lifted his right hand and buried his fingers in the blond hair before him, turning the flushed face below him so that he could lick across the parted lips beneath and then dip into the warm expanse behind those lips, stealing the very breath from James' lungs.

At the contact, James' eyes flew open in surprise, barely any blue visible around his wide pupils. Alec had no problem with certain acts that most would consider overtly sexual, pressing lips or tongue to skin were some of his favourite things to do, but he tended to avoid the messier versions of mouth-to-mouth kisses, favouring the more chaste press of closed lips to closed lips, but something about the sight of Q's pale skin tangled with James' sun-burnished flesh, the needy whines and groans that neither James or Q seemed able to control, the fact that they were here, at Skyfall, and safe, safe, safe, all of it was combining to push Alec further down the rabbit hole than he normally cared to go.

Not that James was objecting. Alec this physically involved was not something either James or Q would ever turn down, and both found it incredibly arousing to see Alec lose control to this degree, even though it was obvious from the state of Alec's cock that he was not actually aroused, but rather drunk on sensation, on the heady knowledge that he and Q were quietly taking James apart, piece by piece.

Not noticing James' momentary distraction, Alec leaned into the kiss, tangling his tongue with James' and controlling the tilt of James' head expertly to give himself the best angle of access to James' mouth. He swept his tongue across James' teeth,the roof of his mouth, and then captured his lower lip between his teeth and tugged sharply.

James gasped and then moaned as Alec released his lip only to tug on his hair instead, tipping his head back as far as it would go so that he could transfer his teeth to the pulse point beating rapidly at the side of James' neck.

A needy bead of sound escaped him and James’ body thrashed involuntarily when at the same moment that Alec's teeth pressed against him, hot, wet heat enveloped him and Q pressed the flat of his tongue against the base of James' glans, sliding across the silky skin. But there was no room for James to move, his upper body held down by Alec's chest pressed close and his forearm across his shoulder, hand still buried in his hair as his teeth continued to nip at James' throat, and his lower body secured by Q's arms firmly encircling his thighs. Of course James could have easily broken free if he'd really wanted to, since neither man was actively trying to restrain him, but for the moment he enjoyed the influx of sensation and gave himself over to it, for once off the clock and free to let his body react however it wished, no mission to worry about and no mark to protect himself from, both his mind and body allowed to be fully in the moment and unguarded.

He pressed his throat up into Alec's mouth and fisted his hands in the sheets when Q added a twisting slide of teeth to the skittering flicks of his tongue; his panting breaths rattling harshly beneath Alec's lips as James struggled to remain still and not thrust up into the mouth that was so tempting. James knew himself well enough that should he allow himself to start, he might not want to stop and James had plans that did not involve the evening ending so early. He wasn't as young as he used to be, and one of the many things he'd learnt from a lifetime in the spy business was patience.

Q seemed to recognise the struggle contained beneath his lips and tongue, and pulled back slowly, until James' length slipped free with a lurid pop and a full-bodied shudder.

Releasing his grip on James' legs, Q pushed himself up and slithered higher, letting his leanly muscled chest brush against James' length as he reached for Alec, tracing the ridges and knobs of the other man’s spine with his tongue and running his palm up the length of the man's flank.

Q wriggled closer, drawing up one knee carefully beneath him until he could press himself against Alec's back from shoulder to thigh.

James' eyes opened as he felt the shifting weights, and he caught Q's eye over Alec's shoulder. His hands joined Q's on Alec's sides and they shifted him around until Q lay against the pillows with Alec leaning back against him, cupped between his outstretched legs with Q's hands sliding up and down his ribs, curling across to brush a thumb against a nipple at irregular intervals, skating gracefully down his arms to lace their fingers together and draw one hand back up so that Q could press open-mouthed kisses to Alec’s palm, nuzzling against his fingers, and tracing the delicate lines with his tongue.

In the meantime, James knelt between Alec’s calves and ran strong hands up and down Alec’s legs, mirroring the actions Q had taken on James’ body. The calloused fingers alternately traced lightly across the scars that dotted Alec's skin, then pressed firmly into the muscles of his thighs, his calves, the bottoms of his feet, seeking out and untangling the knotted muscles, soothing the hard-pushed flesh until Alec was boneless and limp, head tipped back on Q's shoulder, nose pressed to the soft skin behind Q's ear, just breathing in the scent of him, his breath ghosting across Q's jaw in quiet rhythm.

And then it was Q's turn. James tapped the bottom of Alec's foot to catch his attention, and the larger man stretched until every muscle in his body protested, before rolling off of Q and grinning down at the surprised man with a cocky smirk. Much as he had with James, Alec buried his hands in the curl mop of dark strands and guided Q's lips up to his own.

As their lips made contact, Q gave a hiccupping gasp and clutched at Alec's strong biceps to steady himself. Just as James had done, he allowed Alec to set the pace and form of the kiss, knowing as well as James did how rare it was for Alec to initiate such an activity.

Q couldn't help the moan that bubbled up from what felt like the depths of his soul, as Alec licked into his mouth, sweeping his tongue against Q's teeth, sliding their tongues over and under each other, tasting, touching, exploring every inch of Q's mouth, Q giving himself up completely to Alec for that time, reveling in the wet slide, his lips bruised and swollen when Alec finally pulled back, his chest heaving, cheeks flushed and eyes dark.

He cupped Q's head, and brushed his thumbs tenderly over the elegant cheekbones, and then leaned forward to press his forehead against Q's for a moment, warm air mingling as they just breathed together. Q slid his hands up from where he'd gripped Alec's biceps, across the strong deltoids and trapezius muscles and then up into Alec's hair, carding gently through the blond mass, tenderly tracing the lines of his ears, the tendons of his neck, the divots of his spine pressed against his skin in sharp relief as he held his head forward against Q's.

Somewhere in the midst of the tender moment, James had pressed himself against Alec's back, one strong arm supporting his weight as he slid the other around Alec's shoulder and down his arm until his hand gripped Q's shoulder. He pressed a line of gentle kisses along Alec's neck, tracing the sweep of thick muscle until it met his jaw, and then James pressed his kisses across the hard edge of Alec's jawbone, his breath mingling warmly with that of Q and Alec himself.

The three were so tightly connected, so closely interwoven, that when soft words fell from Alec's lips, they all heard them, the "Thank you" ghosting swiftly and hotly across all three mouths, drawn quickly into all three sets of lungs as they all inhaled deeply at the depth of the emotion that filled the simple phrase.

As they pulled back from each other a little, to give each other a little space, to give Alec a moment to collect himself, Q could see the dampness that glittered like diamonds on Alec's beautiful lashes, and Q leaned forward to press kisses to each eye, each kiss preceded by the three words that they almost never spoke, but that permeated the very fabric of their relationship. "I love you," and a gentle kiss brushed across Alec’s left eyelid. "I love you," and a second tender kiss brushed across his right. Then Q turned his head just enough, and pressed warm lips to James' left eyelid, the "I love you" following as he drew back and then pressed a final kiss to James' right eyelid.

James said nothing at all, of the three of them he had the hardest time putting voice to those words. Too many times had speaking those words led to the loss of that which he loved, but James’ strong arm pushed up from the mattress and slid behind Q's shoulders, hauling him forward as James leaned back to steady himself, and then crushed the two people who meant the most to him in all the world as close to his heart as he could. If he could open his chest and tuck them away inside, safe from harm and with him always, he would have done so, but since he could not, James settled for holding them against him tightly for long moments before pressing a final tender kiss to each cheek and then releasing his death grip on his partners.

Alec cleared his throat roughly and then looked at Q and James slyly and then shuffled backwards a little way, just enough to give himself the room he needed to thread his hands into the blond and brunet hair before him and guide their mouths to each other.

The kiss that resulted started out tender, but quickly turned heated as Alec skimmed his hands over shoulders and lean muscle, tracing the lines of ribs, the marks of chemical burns and cuts from sharp equipment racks scattered across the wiry but still well-muscled torso while the marks of years of fighting with knives and guns and fists littered the thickly corded muscularity of the other.

Alec pressed their bodies together as Q and James kissed, a firm hand splayed across the dimples at the base of each spine, steadying them on their knees, plastered together at thighs and hips and bellies and chests, their arms now free to snake around each other, fingers touching whatever they could reach, catching on shoulders and ribs, tangling in hair, tracing the lines of muscle, of scar tissue, the sharp protrusions of boney hips and shoulders, the dips and hollows of collarbones and bellies, the sweeping wings of shoulder blades and the flat expanse of tailbones.

James and Q groaned against each other's lips as their sweat made the surfaces of their bodies slick and salty. They could taste it as their kiss grew messier, lips straying from lips, tongues licking across muscled shoulders, teeth scraping against jawlines and collarbones, until they broke apart and fell sideways into the pillows, guided in their fall by Alec's careful hands against their hips, then drifting over whatever surface he could reach where he lay beside them, content to watch them get lost in the scent and taste and feel of each other, touching when he felt like it, no one knowing or even caring whose hands were doing what.

Q's eyes were dark pools of heat as James finally pushed him down onto his back and took him in his mouth. As Q arched and writhed beneath the larger man, Alec reached behind himself and fished around in the drawer of the bedside table.

As Q’s moans and whimpers changed pitch, and frequency, and finally morphed into simple but heartfelt pleading for James to stop teasing him, Alec tossed the tube of lubricant down next to James' head and ripped open the foil of the condom.

James grunted his thanks, sat back on his heels and then slathered a generous amount of the slick substance over himself, before Alec leaned forward to roll the condom carefully down James’ length. James spread more of the lube on the condom and then looked up to meet Q's eyes.

The languid twitch of a wrist was all the encouragement James needed, as he shuffled forward slightly and lined himself up. He pressed in slowly, as Q arched up into him, lifting his legs to rest his ankles on James' hips.

"Oh, God, move, James!" Q demanded hoarsely as James bottomed out, flush against Q, and paused to make sure his partner was all right.

Alec laughed, "Now, now, Q, be patient, if you want to do hard and fast you can switch places tomorrow night."

Q growled at him, and lightly thumped one heel against James' buttock, before hooking his ankles together and pressing down firmly, and then moaning as that drove James just a tiny bit deeper.

Alec leaned over to kiss Q again, then stage whispered to James, "You better do as he says, mate, or next time he'll put on spurs."

And James didn't give Q time to do more than glare half-heartedly at Alec before he began to move, pulling out almost completely and then driving back in as far as he could. He started slowly, carefully, it had after all been almost a month since they'd last been able to do this, but as Q loosened further around his length, and began arching up to meet each thrust, James picked up the pace, until he was driving a grunt from Q each time his hips snapped forward.

James could feel the tension building, the frisson of pleasure shivering through his limbs, the tight spring coiling at the base of his spine. Q could feel it too, and as James shifted his angle slightly, Q's grunts became a keening thread that Alec swallowed down in another kiss as James connected with Q’s prostate over and over.

The keening morphed into a litany of profanity dropping from the Quartermaster's lips. Neither James or Alec would admit it, but both found it rather hot that the prim and proper man used such language when in the throes of passion, and James was always just a little bit proud of himself that he was the cause of it.

It was also a good indicator of where Q was as far as orgasms went, and a minute later Q grit his teeth, sheets held in a death grip as he arched up off the bed and came in the narrow space between his body and James', who had leaned down and caught his mouth in a truly filthy kiss once Q's language had shifted.

James' hips undulated a few more times and then he, too, froze, his hands white-knuckled where they gripped the pillow behind Q's head, as he came as well, pressed as close to Q as he could manage without crawling inside him.

James lowered himself to rest on his elbows, exchanging tender kisses with Q while their breathing and hearts slowed and the aftershocks skittered through their limbs. As they kissed, Alec rolled off the mattress and disappeared into the bathroom, returning a moment later with a damp flannel that he used to wipe down first James and then Q. As James pulled out and rolled off Q to flop down on the pillows beside him, Alec peeled off the used condom, knotted it up and tossed it in the bin, before wiping James off there as well, tossing the flannel into the bathtub to be dealt with in the morning.

Alec scooped up the duvet on his way back and spread it out over the bed and his partners before sliding in next to Q and pulling him back against his broad chest. James scooted closer and slotted himself in against Q's front, his arm slung across the hips of the other two men, while Q hooked Alec's arm under his own, lacing their fingers together and drawing the pair up close to his chest.

The three men yawned and settled, and then closed their eyes and slept, safe and warm in each other's arms.

~~~ OOQ ~~~

When Q woke the next morning, he was once again alone in the bed, but a tantalising smell tickled at his half-asleep brain. He lifted his head, trying to identify the rich, chocolaty aroma.

The bed was mostly covered by the duvet, James and Alec had obviously pulled the thick cover back over their vacated spots at whatever ungodly hour they had awoken. The pillows had been straightened as well from the usual unruly mess that they wound up in with three restless sleepers shifting them around all night.

A ha! As Q registered the orderliness of the pillows, he spied a medium-sized white plastic tub set in the middle of the pillow where James usually slept, closest to the door.

He pushed himself up on his elbows and squinted at the tub but could not discern anything further without actually sitting up, or putting on his glasses.

Sighing in defeat, Q reached across to the other side of the bed where his spectacles lay beside Alec's phone, which was dead, again. The man was truly terrible about remembering to charge the poor device, and Q was amazed at times that Alec survived the missions he did, when something as simple as charging a mobile escaped his mind.

Vision aid firmly in place, Q examined the tub again. The plastic was opaque, giving no clue as to its contents, but the delectable smell was definitely emanating from the innocuous package.

Still feeling somewhat fuzzy around the edges, Q poked the side of the tub with his finger, hard enough to produce the sound of crinkling paper from within. His eyebrows lifting in surprise, he admitted defeat and popped the cover off.

He stared down in wonder, blinking rapidly and wondering if he were still asleep and dreaming. He scrubbed his hand across his eyes under the lenses of his glasses and then looked again. Nope, not dreaming, the contents stayed there and did not change.

The tub was divided roughly in half with a piece of wax paper, and then each side filled with layers also divided by wax paper, of chocolaty delectable-looking fudge and colourfully decorated rounds of what smelled like shortbread, but much paler than any he'd eaten in the past.

His eyes darted around the room as though searching for someone waiting to stop him, and then his fingers, quite without his conscious consent, snagged a brown square and popped it into his mouth. His eyes slid shut and he almost groaned as the sweet chocolate cloud of flavour exploded on his tongue.

Snapping the cover onto the tub once more, Q pulled on a pair of thick cotton pajama bottoms and shrugged into the baggy misshapen but oh-so-soft jumper that he'd been sleeping in for years. Stuffing his feet into the slippers one of the other two men had unearthed and left for him by the bed, Q scooped up the tub and headed for the stairs, his prize cradled carefully in his arms.

As he rounded the corner of the kitchen doorway, Q stopped in his tracks to grin foolishly at the scene before him.

The two agents were seated with their backs to him, that in and of itself a rarity given their penchant for keeping all exits within line-of-sight at all times.

James was sprawled indolently in the chair at the end of the table, leaned over against the solid bulk of said table, a book open on the flat surface and his bent head supported by his palm, braced by his elbow on the table next to the book, his rarely-used reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose.

His other hand was running absently through the strands of gold that adorned Alec's head, which was also bent in concentration on his task, just visible to Q where he stood in the doorway. Alec was seated on a little footstool between James' knees, his broad shoulders pressed back against the reading agent's thighs; Alec’s tongue peeked out from between his lips in that adorable quirk of intense concentration he only seemed to exhibit when alone with James or Q.

Q took a silent step into the room, peering around the two men, trying to determine just what Alec was working on with such a single-minded focus.

His eyebrow lifted in surprise when he spied the jar resting near Alec's knee. It was one of those half-gallon food storage jars, but this one was filled to the top with bobbins of brightly coloured thread, blues and greens and pinks and reds and browns. There must have been at least two dozen of the little spools behind the glass.

The other eyebrow lifted to join its fellow when he took one more step and suddenly the full scene in front of him was revealed.

While James was reading whatever book he'd found to entertain himself, and idly sipped his coffee in between, Alec was stitching two tea towels together into the oddest-looking hat Q had ever seen. The tea towels were a pleasant and muted shade of blue, but the reasoning behind Alec's actions was lost to Q. They'd all brought hats with them, several were also in permanent residence at the house. Why then would Alec feel the need to make one?

Something must have given him away, possibly the rustle of wax paper as his arms tightened unconsciously around the tub he held, as Alec suddenly glanced up and then grinned from ear to ear when he spotted Q.

"He found it!" Alec announced to James, and Q glanced down at the plastic he held, the mystery of Alec's activity momentarily set on the back burner.

"Yes, is this what I think it is?" Q asked, not bothering to hide his glee.

James made no verbal reply but grinned himself and nodded.

"How did you manage it?" Q questioned, curious beyond words how the agents had succeeded in securing the prize.

James laughed, and set aside his book, untangling himself from behind Alec and then heading over to the aga to make a pot of tea for Q.

Q sat in his vacated seat, sliding the tub onto the table beside James' book as he settled, and Alec leaned back in contentment as the much slenderer fingers of his quartermaster took Bond's place and began carding through his hair, nails scritching across the muscles of his neck sending a delicate frisson of pleasure shivering up his spine from time to time. He bent his head back to his task as James began to speak.

"Well, we may possibly have let Macy know how much you love butter tablet, after we explained what it was, and chocolate, and that we weren't sure what to get you for Christmas this year," he started.

"We may have also promised to fill out the first three AARs of the new year without any of the 'physically impossible over-exaggerations' that she loves so much, and to submit them on time, too," Alec muttered somewhat sarcastically from between Q's knees.

Q sniggered. Macy, whose real name was as well-hidden as Q's and known to only a very few MI6 personnel, had been dubbed 'Macy,' based on her initials M.C., shortly after her arrival at MI6. She was originally from Canada and was something of a mystery. Her diminutive stature, while not quite on the scale of the previous M -- whose passing in of all things an automobile accident with her long-time husband still pained many at MI6 -- was still something of a marvel considering how much fire was contained in that small frame. Her white-blonde hair was also striking, far paler than any her colleagues sported. There was a joke that made the rounds every so often that Macy had been snowed upon as an infant and the snow had stuck to her head and had become hair. Macy had nearly laughed herself sick the first time she'd heard the story, but refused to comment further on the point, other than to say that her hair was entirely genetic.

The reasons for her emigration were as much a mystery as her name, and known to even less of the MI6 population. Despite a few half-hearted attempts, Q had never been able to dig up any information on the woman, and his efforts had ceased when the previous M had called him into her office and explained that M.C. was trustworthy, fully vetted by M herself, and that he should leave it alone. Q'd observed a familiarity between the two women, despite their difference in age, that made him suspect a history there. He'd also noticed the occasional turn of phrase each used that hinted at a common speech development, and Q had his suspicions that possibly the two women were related, though to what degree he could not say without conducting an illicit DNA test, which he was not about to risk life and limb to carry out. All Q knew was that he'd found no record of the woman in the Canadian or American systems he'd hacked during those initial attempts at information-gathering, and Macy was utterly tight-lipped about her past, although her accent did indeed betray her Canadian and American origins.

Macy was, however, utterly the opposite when it came to giving of herself in other ways. She had been hired as the analyst responsible for collecting and processing AARs and other such mission-related paperwork for the double Os and the junior agents. In that capacity she was as much a dragonlady as the old M had been, perhaps even worse at times, mercilessly hunting down agents and handlers alike when reports were late, inadequate, or full of the kind of creative writing that "would do a romance novelist proud," to quote her from one memorable run-in with 004, who'd had the mistaken idea that she'd leave him the hell alone if he made his report lurid enough. It had failed spectacularly, and very publicly, and neither he nor the rest of the double Os had ever made that mistake again. Several of the other double Os had worn epicly black eyes after attempting to tease 004 over it. They'd never made that mistake again, either.

Macy also, it turned out, had an amazing green thumb and was especially fond of orchids, keeping a small collection of the beautiful plants lined up on the shelf behind her desk. She obviously had quite an extensive array of the plants wherever it was she lived, as the pots behind her changed at intermittent intervals to display a wide range of varieties. Moneypenny, quite the lover of exotic flowers herself, had remarked on an unusual strain a few times within Q's earshot, and Macy had smiled happily. Once, in an especially unguarded moment, she had even let slip that "Mom sends her extras when she buys a particularly pretty one."

Neither Eve or Q had called attention to the slip, but had filed it away with the rest of the tiny pile of personal detail they had on the enigma of a woman.

The other thing Macy was famous for, besides her temper, looks, and green thumb, was her baking. She made biscuits, 'cookies' as she referred to them, that melted in the mouth and shortbread that was well-worth murdering for. Her fudge, both plain and chocolate, rivaled even the most expensive commercial brands, and was the source of strict rationing to prevent hoarding when she deigned to make a batch for her colleagues.

One or two intrepid members of staff had actually asked for recipes, but she'd smiled benignly at them, and then remarked that the recipes were closely guarded family secrets and if she were to divulge them to the wrong ears she would then have to kill the people to whom the ears belonged. No one was quite sure if she had been joking or not. The fact that she'd taken some lower level agent combat training courses on a whim and passed with flying colours did not serve as further inducement to see just how well she might or might not be able to carry out the implied threat.

And so no one had pushed the issue any further, choosing instead just to enjoy the bounty of goodies whenever a batch showed up at the office. Macy also, upon occasion and as the mood caught her, made batches of one thing or another as a reward for someone, or as a present on a special occasion, or when a person needed a little extra to cheer them up when a mission or something else went sideways. On the latter occasions, there were usually small cards included in the boxes of treats, lovely hand-drawn scenes depicting animals playing or sleeping or otherwise looking content, with a few lines of comforting wisdom penned in her graceful script on the inside of the card. The small tokens never failed to lift the spirits of their recipients, no matter what circumstances had led to their giving.

"Anyway," James glared at Alec as he picked up the tale again, "we made a deal with Macy, that she'd make you a batch of goodies that we could give you for Christmas, in return for certain… concessions," he glared at Alec again before pointing at the container on the table, "and _that's_ what was waiting for us when we got back from the mission."

Q grinned happily, and glanced over the tub possessively. The fudge really did remind him of the Scottish tablet James bought for him occasionally, and the biscuits were scrumptious, the little candied fruit on each one adding just a touch of flavour to each mouthful. This batch appeared to be plain, but he'd seen versions baked with chips of chocolate inside, others with candied orange peel, crystallised ginger, or lemon peel mixed in. Almonds, walnuts, raisins, cranberries, and even apricots had made appearances. It made for a wonderfully varied collection, and those that received Macy’s treats never knew what they were going to get, though somehow she always managed to give appropriately, allergies and personal taste always taken into consideration.

At that point James finished making the pot of tea and carried the steaming container over to the table. Alec handed him a blue square of cloth and James set that on the table and then set the teapot down on top of it after he'd poured tea into Q's cup.

A moment later, Alec stood up with a grunt and a muttered "Finally done!" and popped the blue "hat" down over the tea pot.

Q's eyes almost bugged right out of his head, before he started laughing in delight while Alec grinned from ear to ear and James smirked right back at him.

Alec hadn't been stitching a hat at all! Instead, he had been carefully sewing two tea towels together to make a temporary tea cosy for Q's tea pot! 

He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck in sudden embarrassment as he shuffled his feet, "Sorry it's not the prettiest," he told Q, who jumped up out of the chair and planted a smacking kiss right on Alec's mouth.

"No, no, I love it!" he crowed. "I didn't even know you could sew."

Alec shrugged one shoulder and shoved his hands into his pockets, after planting the needle in the top of the blue-threaded bobbin and placing both on the table near the now-covered teapot.

"He's actually pretty good at it," James chimed in. "When we're on missions, we can't always get to a supply depot, or a tailor. Sometimes we need to make repairs."

Alec snorted suddenly, "Or repair each other." And he looked sideways at James, who shrugged in turn, not denying the many, many times that they'd patched each other up in the field.

Q looped one arm around Alec's waist and then reached for James who stepped close so that Q could loop his other arm around him as well and draw both the taller men in close.

Alec and James' arms lifted and the three hugged each other closely.

"Happy Christmas, Q," Alec said softly.

"Thanks for keeping us safe and sound," James continued as he squeezed the shoulders butted against his own.

"And thanks for bringing us home, every time," Alec finished off the thought.

Q grinned wide enough that he feared his face might split clear in two, and skimmed his hands up the back of each agent until he could burrow his fingers into their hair, and use that grip to bring each face closer to his own so that he could kiss each man over and over, showering their lips and cheeks and noses with the caresses, trying without words to express how happy and grateful he was to have both of them in his life.

~~~ THE END ~~~

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are catnip ~meow~ and much appreciated! Comments especially let me know if what this looks like in my head translates the way I would like it to onto the screen (translation, constructive criticism is welcome!). This is also, amazingly, my very first work in this fandom. Gentleness is appreciated. I'm a delicate flower, I burn easily >.> (NO comments from the peanut gallery!!!)
> 
> Gaelic translations:  
>  _Beinn_ or _ben_ is the word for mountain.  
>  _Gleann_ or _glen_ is the word for valley.  
>  _Srath_ or _strath_ is the word for a wide, fertile valley.  
>  These pairs of words are just alternate spellings of the same word.
> 
> Some links to pictures that I used to help visualise certain things within the fic, and because they made me laugh (or drool in everlasting jealous... I WANT THAT TUB! WAH!)
> 
> The freestanding tub installed in James, Alec, and Q's London home:  
> <http://www.gruppotres.it/EN/indice-minipiscine-ghost-system.html#muse.html>
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> The salux cloths on which Q has a mental dissertation, because they are AWESOME and everyone should have one:  
> <http://saluxshop.com/>
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> Examples of aga stoves, since I can't find something that looks like what I remember of my godmother's kitchen. I imagine the kitchen in this fic looks something like the one in the second pic:
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> Finally, that which inspired the fic in the first place, the actual fudge, cookies, and tea cosy, amoung other things:
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> Thanks for a lovely pressie, [Truth](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Only_1_Truth/pseuds/Only_1_Truth), hope you like yours in return! :D


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